In Your Teens
by MapleWoman
Summary: FF to FF: Willow accidentally threw Buffy and Spike back at their childhood. Raised as siblings for ten years now are teenagers. But how long one can act as a normal kid when demons of the past begin to hunt?
1. 11-30-2009

**A/N: This story is based on _"So Mote It Be"_ by Ultrawoman. Willow accidentally threw back Buffy and Spike at the age of five. However she reversed her spell, something don't clicked on - or at least not the way it was expected. They won't be five-year olds forever, but they have to grow up again. Raised as a siblings (thankfully the spell was casted in season 4 – no romantic Spuffy yet) by Joyce as normal as it was possible for almost ten years by now. Isn't that a proper time for a bit of teenage rebellion?**

**DISCLAIMER: I wish I could say Spuffy et. al. belong to me, but they don't. Buffyverse belongs to Joss Whedon (God of all nerds) and we (all nerds) have to cope with it somehow.**

* * *

"Mooooom! She took my nail varnish! AGAIN!"

"Yeah, go and tell mum everything! Like you didn't steal mine when I bought a black one for myself, Fang-Face!"

Joyce sighted. Dealing with teenagers like these two upstairs wasn't easy. Not because both had super-strength and extra-sensible senses, no sir. It was their wayward and stubborn behavior. Like they never were those sweet five years old she fell for.

"I thought I said clearly, no names, no stealing!" she yelled taking off her jacket and hanging it by the door "It was a long day at work and I won't tolerate you two behaving like that!"

bedroom door upstairs slapped "See Slayer, what you've done?" She heard muffled voice "Now she's mad at us. Bloody 'ell"

"Spike, one more word like that and you're grounded!" Joyce threaten him loudly and harshly, although she wasn't really mad at them. She smiled slightly amused noticing sudden silence. So at least few quiet minutes before dinner, thank god.

When Willow reversed the spell which threw back Buffy and Spike in the age of five something didn't click on. After a while it was revealed, that although they won't be children till the end of time, it is not possible to automatically age them again – back to the start point. Back then Joyce was more than happy having her little girl again, and having a cute little boy as a bonus was an unexpected but great surprise. For a long time Joyce felt guilty because of Buffy, who hadn't got full family, and forced to be the slayer was too unsure about her own mum to tell her about everything. Until it was absolutely necessary when she saw her daughter dusting a vampire in a company of a strange, bleach-blond man who claimed to be a frontman of some rock band Buffy claimed to be in.

Next time she met him she already knew him as a bad vampire, famous because of his cruelty. But for some reason she wasn't afraid of him, when he first came smirking to her kitchen and after few minutes almost crying in front of her because of his broken heart. She couldn't help it, he was so well-mannered boy. He behaved reckless, even bad, but was he really evil?

When she revealed her doubts to Rupert after spell turned out permanent, he acquainted her with his story. She was shocked. How come all of it was possible? How come this innocent child could be, well, a monster?

But that's the point, isn't it? He wasn't. Not in the age of five. In some way nothing of it happened yet. She didn't care about anything that happened before, not when her foster son cried at night because of nightmares that in real were memories from his previous life.

So when reunited Watchers Council tried to get her child away she fought like a lioness for her cub. Rupert said that the council never was so frightened nut no-unnatural unit. But she must admit that everything ended well because of him and his role on the new council. He was the one who had an eye on her little family, a guarantee more important than her blind rage and intense maternal instinct. The guarantee she was always grateful about.

"Joyce? My I come in?" She was daydreaming so deep she didn't hear knocking.

"Angel! What a surprise!" Even though he helped a lot in the beginning taking care of this whole fight-with-evil stuff, Joyce wasn't sure if it is a good surprise. She felt bad about it, but she never really liked Angel. "I haven't seen you since... I don't really know how long it was"

"Is Buffy there?" He asked hesitantly

"Well, she..." Joyce started, but double pitter-patter on stairs interrupted her immediately.

"...and I warn you for the last time Spike, I mean that... Angel!" Buffy blushed noticing their guest.

"You!" Spike, who followed her, narrowed his eyes in anger.

"Hi, kids," said Angel, uncertain how to behave "You're know... fourteen, right?"

"Almost fifteen, cutie" Buffy said coquettishly.

"Yeah, Peaches, we are!"

"Spike!" Joyce winced.

"It's okay, really, okay," said Angel quickly "I was just passing by" he appealed directly to Joyce "and I thought I could take Buffy out for a patrol sometimes, show her how it all works, again..."

"You mean like on a *date*?" screamed Buffy jumping with excitement the same moment when Joyce denied "Angel, I really don't think it is a good idea, they're still so young..."

"Oh mum, pleeease!"

As Buffy was pleading her mum, Spike took Angel on a side and said ominously: "You stay away from my sis, you punk, or I'll make you poof!"

Angel opened his eyes wider "You'll make me... *poof*?

"Yeah bro, I'll do it!"

Angel burst out with laughter

"And what happened with the Big Bad? William the Bloody I knew was killing ant staking, but he never ever made anyone, y'know, *poof*!"

Spike made eyes, bored with grown-up cavilling "I'll be grounded for using words like that," he sighted "But I'll make you poof anyway!"

Angel didn't answer that, feeling a little uncomfortable when a one hundred and forty years old vampire looking and behaving like fourteen acted like a possessive big brother in front of her ex-lover. That was, well, weird. And when you are an ensoulment vampire fighting with evil, you know what you mean by this word.


	2. 01-22-2010

"...and you must behave properly" said Joyce to her children.

It was the day of Buffy and Spike fifteen birthday. Well, kind of.

Without the spell Buffy would be celebrating her thirty birthdays today. In his previous life Spike was always lying about his age (or maybe he was just bad at math), so no one really knew how long he walk on this earth or what day exactly he was born. Or reborn. Joyce tried to asked Angel about it, but first he frowned, then started brooding, then quickly excused himself and passed by the board for six months. By the time he came back Buffy had his second sixth birthday and leaving Spike without a cake seemed unfair. So why change something that works? Joyce was raising them not only as twins.

And teach by experience Joyce knew when it's good to play "I'm your mother and I know what is right for you" card.

"Understood?" she asked severely.

"Yes mum." Spike and Buffy muttered reluctantly.

"Definitely no alcohol and absolutely no human blood," she said. Rules are rules and it's good to repeat them from time to time, even though she didn't believe her kids would be able to break this one. Or at least the blood-part. "Both of you!"

"Ugh, okay mum." Buffy yawned. "We'll be good mum" Spike reassured her.

Okay, so now the hard part.

"And be sure you're back home by eleven" she said finally.

"But... mum!" Buffy groaned. She was shocked. "I'm *the* slayer!"

"And I'm creature of the night, remember?!" Spike backed her up. It was so unusual these days she almost pulled back.

"And we're fifteen!" they wailed together.

She'd be strong, she'd firm. She'd find a way.

"You want your pocket-money this week or not?"

"MUM!"

"Well?"

Buffy and Spike were supposing Joyce already had this talk with Xander and Willow and they were going to be at the front door eleven o'clock sharp, so they agreed with a sight to keep up appearances. Nevertheless Spike whispered on a side "we need a raise, Buffy." "Sure we do" she whispered back. Felling good as long as they had this firm brother-sister alliance against all grown-ups, they went smoothly with their caretakers to the Bronze.

Buffy knew that she, Willow and Xander were best friend in the past. She saw the pictures and she had some glimpses of memories also, but it was really difficult for her to, well, to really feel they were close in that way once. They both were so much older than she was, both knew much more about world and - as she discovered some time ago - that they knew so much more about opposite sex! Well, Willow knew a lot about both sexes, what made her even bigger in Buffy's eyes. She just had to look up to them. That's why she started treating them like an aunt and an uncle when she was little, aping Spike of course. He, on the other hand, really made friends with both of them, even if according to family legend their beginnings were rather harsh. Willow still called him her favorite little boy, forgetting he was already taller than she was. She always had some homemade sweets in her pocket for him. Buffy thought it was some kind of an obsessive-compulsive neurosis, especially since once - asked outright - Willow blushed and muttered something about cookies, bear, Thanksgiving and feeling guilty. Spike didn't care, he could eat all amount of sweets. No Red Vines were safe when he was on hunt. And when Xander had finally broken up with Anya, Spike agreed (for a fee of course) to be his wingman - or, as Buffy saw it, as his mascot. But she had to admit that Spike knew how to be cute when he wanted. And when Xander came back from his first date with a human nine there was born something shaped like man solidarity between them. And that was something.

But tonight Buffy and Spike were looking for someone else. The Bronze had the best gig in years: *Dingoes ate my baby* came to their hometown and worldwide famous Oz, the guitarist of the band and long-term friend of Scoobies was going to play. The Summers siblings already were popular, but after that night even seniors will be *so* envy. Who cared they have to be home by eleven. Buffy and Spike were going to take as much profit as they could.

They left adults and mixed in the crowd beneath the scene, soon separated by dancing people. It seemed like all cool kids were there – and most of not cool were there, too. Buffy felt like a true star of the evening, and when Oz simply announced "Reborn" picking her out on a stage the world just exploded. What a night!

The concert was halfway through when band announced a short break. Buffy sipped some beer from someone's glass smiling brightly to the surprised owner. His name was Clyde and he was a quarterback of the school football team and a junior. And she already saw herself as a lead cheerleader. And the opportunity was too good to be - - -

"Spike?! Oh God, you scared me" she sent Clyde another charming smile and – gripping Spike's wrist very firmly - - quickly went away from the crowd. "You promised me you'll never creep me up like that, you punk!" she snarled at him quietly. "You're dead cold! What made you think I wanna see you tonight?!"

"If I'd bite you know, which rule I'd be breaking, the "no human blood" or the "no alcohol", how d'you think?" Spike asked smirking.

"Shhh...!" She made eyes and pointed this whole what's-his-face to him. Geez, why she's got so bad taste in man? "And yuck! Could you stop being gross for five minutes at least? You know I like him!"

"He's a doofus" Spike shrugged indifferently. "And now I know you can't even touch a beer till you're really old."

"Oh you bloody bastard! Say why?"

"First, it's a shame, Slayer, you didn't know I'm behind you. Second, 'coz it's enough I'm aware you're not a decent woman, there's no need every poof in the world knows you swear like a sailor," Spike had a great time, he loved to piss off his sister. And she *really*can swear like a sailor, the volley of curses he's going to interrupt in a moment surprised even him. Well, well, who'd've thought. Little Buffy Summers is bad to the bone? It's a shame he's not recording it, he really should. He could blackmail her, threat he'd let mum listen the tape. She'd do everything for him. Just everything.

He'd never had to wash dishes again. Or make laundry. Or even clean his room. Goodbye economics assignments! Farewell geometry! Damn, he really should be taping it.

His sudden fall from the Neverland back to earth was caused by a sharp pain in his chest.

"What are you doing with your elbows?! Are you insane?" he almost shouted at her, but she already gagged him with one hand and showed him to stay silence with the other.

"Listen," she whispered right to his ear "It's Willow and Xander, and Oz backstage. They speak about us, can't you hear?"

He could. There was only a thin curtain between thick, even an ordinary human could hear what the people on the other side were talking about.

"... y'know, I kinda still feel responsible for what happened" it really was Oz. Spike could've swear the man was less distant than usually. "I shouldn't leave so suddenly, it was too cruel, now I know that but then, well."

"No, you mustn't feel bad!" It was Will of course, immediately soothing every hurt and broken soul. There was something unhealthy between those two, normally even she is less intensive. "It was my fault, it was totally mine!"

Out of the corner of her eye Buffy saw Spike pulling a face. She knew her brother treated Oz with a cold reserve. He said it was a vampire – werewolf thing. She suspected he was simply jealous of how fond Willow is of her old boyfriend.

Boys.

"If I wouldn't do that spell..."

Spell? They looked each other in the eye. Okay, it may be really informative.

"We don't know what would happen, Will" Xander, the knight in shining armor. "You know how they were, fighting all the time. Even when Spike already had this chip in his head."

"You have a chip in your head?" Buffy whispered surprised. Spike looked shocked. No wonder why.

"You told them to say that?" He asked annoyed. She shook her head. "Is it a stupid joke of some kind," he continued whispering "first you beat me, then you threat me?"

"And tell me please, please tell me, how long a normal slayer used to live?" Xander sounded half sad, half angry. "How many slayers celebrated they twenty-five birthday?"

Okay, maybe now Spike will stop murmuring so they could listen something more about - Wait, what?

"So she would be dead like, how long?" still Xander "Five years by now?"

"Spikey..." Buffy was petrified. Dead? What does he mean by dead? Like dead dead or undead?

"Xander, stop this" Willow plead.

"No, someone has to tell it loud and clear if you two still blame yourself!" he was almost yelling now. Almost, 'cause – even in Sunnydale – you don't speak about some things easily. "Because who do you think would kill her if not Spike, who already slayed two other slayers? Huh?"

That was enough. Spike wanted to tear this curtain off and beat the crap out of him, out of both of them, he could do it, he was stronger and he has every right to do it, they're saying blunt lies and he could beat them black and blue till there's only blood and lifeless corpses without faces, they were so wrong, so, so wrong go there at once and tell them that was a lie, that they were wrong, so wrong...

But there was Buffy. Trembling. And her warm hazelnut eyes were almost black now, so wide, so -

"Buffy. No. Please, Buffy. Please - "


	3. 01-23-2010

**AN**: I have followers! Yay! You have no idea how much joy it gives me. Thank you so much, it means my English is not as bad as I was afraid it is. I hope you'll like what you read in this chapter.

Dear readers! I know I have a very fragile ego, but maybe I could ask you for some reviews? Pretty please?

* * *

"Buffy, please –" Spike reached out his hand to – to what? touch her? soothe? grab? make sure it's not one of those dreams? – but in that exact moment she turned back and run out of the Bronze. Spike, still shocked, took after her thanks only to his hunt instinct.

They'd run couple of blocks before he started thinking again. Buffy escaping? Damn, he should thought about it. He wouldn't have to run after her now. She was as fast as he was, so he hoped she'd trip or something. Or get tired. Or whatever, but now, 'cause they're nearer and nearer to the cemetery and it was not a good place to be desperate, alone and at night.

"Buffy!" he yelled once again and, when she – how unexpectedly – didn't stop, he bounced on a dumpster. He managed to tripped her, but not to catch. Or at least not at first. She wanted to fight, but he didn't, not this time. He just tried to incapacitate her, so he grabbed her firmly and tried to stop her scuffling. He could do that, he was stronger than she was, so it didn't last long until she stopped struggle. She tried to stand still. Tried without a success. Buffy was trembling like a leaf.

"Are you crying?" Spike asked. "You'll destroy my duster if you're crying. It's vintage, you won't buy one like this on e-bay, so better don't cry, okay?" He was mildly annoyed and really scared. Not about who could come out of the darkness – he was the darkness (not the band, the night), so there was nothing to be really afraid of. But Buffy was acting weird. Weird even for her, and that could bring trouble.

Teenage girls. God, help us all.

Spike changed his grip a little and now he was hugging his sister. She was hugging him back. They'd embraced each other so hard it seemed Buffy's heart was beating for both their bodies. He felt her tears on his chest.

"Murder her?" He thought. "They're insane. I would've never do something like that". She was his little sis, annoying and completely mad, and without any taste when it comes to man, but his own. And keeping her safe was the only way.

"What are you saying?" He asked, when she started mumbling something he couldn't understand.

"I said you're duster is stupid." She said more clearly. "And stinky".

For a moment Spike imagined living her here, preferably stripped and tied to a street lamp.

"No it isn't!" It's a token." He broke their embrace and grabbed her wrist instead. It's time to go home, it's better be.

"Memoir of what?"

"Dunno. But I would've killed for it."

"And you probably did."

"Oh, shut up. It's just an expression." He snapped with sudden anger. Motion was good. Struggling was good. Teasing was great. Distracting. But -

"You really think I would kill for a piece of clothing?" he asked after a while.

"Geez, of course no." Buffy rolled eyes. "Stop freaking me out, okay? Though I really don't want to know what you'd do to get my black nail varnish."

"You're impossible."

"You're wrong." Buffy smirked. "I do exist; so I can't be impossible. You probably meant I'm improbable."

"Would you stop making Sheldon? You really should stop watching so much TV, it's sick"

"Yeah, but it works both ways. You recognized it, so you watch too much television too. No more America got Talent."

"You wish"

"Or X Factor"

"Dream on"

"Or America's Next Top Model"

Spike was struck down for a moment.

"I DO NOT WATCH THAT!"

"Yes you do."

"NO I DO NOT!"

"Whatever"

"You watch it!"

"Well, technically mum watches it, but go on"

"Living in the same house it's hard not to glance once or twice!"

" – especially when a half of dozen young and pretty girls are rippling their half-naked bodies on the screen, right?"

"You rat!"

"I know, a *decent* gentleman can feel a little nauseous when he sees so inexplicably scandalous scenes. Is that why you're spending so much time in the bathroom these days?"

There was a crime, there should be a punishment.

"I should've – " Spike started angrily but withhold himself.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just – just shout your mouth, okay?"

There should be a punishment, but he couldn't let her go.

He probably sounded like he really cared for silence, 'cause Buffy didn't speak again till they were right in front of the house.

"Did you text Willow or something?"

"When?"

"Dunno." She shrugged. "In the way."

"Yes," he snapped. "yes, of course I did. I've owled it in fact. You couldn't see it, because I've done it magically. I magically stopped the time when I was running after you, right before I decked you. Magically."

"So you didn't?"

"No, you I-can't-understand-sarcasm-when-I-hear-it, I didn't. We'll text her when we'll be upstairs."

"So? How do we do it?"

Okay, something is seriously wrong here. No yelling? No punches? No names? Spike eyed Buffy up. She looked like was deep in her thought. Rather black thoughts, he could imagine that.

Maybe he should tone down a bit.

"The tree."

It wasn't the first time they were using the great old tree in their backyard as a ladder. They could get into Buffy's room climbing it. Thankfully she left her window open.

* * *

"So?" Buffy asked, when her brother came back to her room.

"Mum is sleeping in the living room as we expected" Spike gave her a cup of cocoa and sat down on the other end of her bed. Sending him as a spy was a good idea, she had to admit it. He could check the situation and make something hot to drink at the same time. With his naturally room temperature skin he wasn't much colder then usually, and as long as he was wearing his pajamas' pants and ancient (but original!) Pink Floyd T-shirt Spike could pretend he was home for hours, and he just wanted to eat a lot of sugary things; so where did you hide marshmallows this time, mum?

But Buffy was almost frozen to death. Who knew it can be so cold in California. Okay, it's January, but still. Something hot to drink was advisable.

"I texted Willow" she sipped "that we're home"

"Told her why?"

"No. Oh, and I used your cell, mine is dead"

Spike nodded indifferently.

"Great. We tell her you felt bad and I took you home –"

"Why me?"

" – and moreover it's true. Nice, isn't it?"

"You know they'd think I was drunk!" It was outrageous! Outrageous!

"Well, ditto." He shrugged.

"It was one beer!" It's hard to scream when you're whispering, but Buffy managed it somehow. "Why can't you be the one, who broke the rules?!"

"And what do you think," Spike said patronizingly "what could've I drunk to feel sick?"

Buffy hated when he was right.

"I'll be grounded forever." she muttered overcome.

"Relax." Spike stretched himself out on her bed "I'll speak with Willow, she won't tell mother a thing."

"And who'll speak with Xander, if I may ask?"

Buffy didn't get any answer. She wrapped up tighter in her blanket. Spike was staring blankly somewhere else, biting his lip a little.

They say every vampire has oral fixation.

"When was the last time we talked about it?" he asked suddenly.

"I don't know." She really didn't. She wasn't even sure she wants to talk about it now.

"Years ago."

"If ever."

"Right."

"Right."

There was nothing left to say. But sometimes silence is like a powerful vacuum you just need to fill with words. Spike broke it for the second time.

"So? What do you remember?"

"I –" she hesitated. "Dust. Mostly dust."

"Dust disease, slayers' occupational illness" he snarled like every brother would do, but somehow Buffy knew he wasn't putting his heart in it. "Something else?"

"Not much." she sipped some cocoa which was still warmer than her hands. "Some glimpses. Flashbacks."

"Do you remember being a slayer?"

"Well, yes. And no. You know." How to put it to make him understand? "It's like a movie I saw a long time ago."

"You remember main cast, but not the plot?"

"Something like that." She agreed. "And you?"

Spike shrugged and didn't say a word. Well, if her past life was like a movie, his was like The Human Comedy written by this French guy Spike was talking all the time lately. Too long to read. And mostly without electricity.

"Than what it was about? You playing a nut?" All of the sudden he fastened his eyes upon her.

"I don't know. Just – just, it all started when I was fifteen." Spike closed his eyes, frowning. "You know, for the first time." She wouldn't tell for the world she was scared that all's gonna happen again now. But on some level she knew she didn't have to.

"It's late. Wanna go to sleep?" he asked absently.

Buffy shook her head.

"But we can watch something." She smirked. "Maybe Twilight?"

She catched his foot before he kicked her. So Spike threw a pillow at her.

"God, no." he groaned painfully. "If you wanna slay me, please use a stick, it would hurt less."

* * *

It was three in the morning.

Buffy was so stressed out she'd fallen asleep even before Shovel Face started sparkling. Geez. She had a really, *really* bad taste in men. So now Spike could only stare at the wall with Zac Efron poster (please), completely immobilized by Buffy's head on his arm and her hand across his chest, and think.

Spike was first to admit he wasn't the love-me-tender type of brother. Happily Buffy wasn't one either. Every man will admit there's nothing more annoying than a sister of any kind, and a teenage valley-girl sister was something you really don't wanna live with. But.

But it was different. Tonight. Things were going to get rough and they had to watch each other's backs. Stay together. That was the only option. Okay, maybe letting Buffy first cry on his chest and then drool on it in her sleep wasn't the most effective way of showing support, and surely it wasn't the driest (there was only few types of body fluids left -ew! next thought, next thought) but it was something. And frankly – even it was hard to admit to that even only in front of himself – Spike didn't want to be alone tonight either.

Buffy had her flashback and glimpses and he had his too, so this whole overheard conversation shouldn't be a shock. But in a way it was. Like someone had taken a hammer and crushed their perfect little suburban world. A lot of sharp edges left. You have to be very careful or you'd get hurt.

Buffy was a kid and she never was anything else. She was like what? Eighteen, when the spell backfired? So it wasn't so big change, was it? It was easy for her not to remember. There wasn't much to forget. That's why she escaped. It was the same with Dorian Grey. He'd run too when he saw his portrait tainted for the first time.

Spike was a kid too. Now. But part of him was much older. Even if in normal circumstances that part was hide very, very deep.

And it was sorta schizophrenic feeling, too. Spike trusted his instincts, and those instincts told him to read a lot about human mind hence almost every great poet seemed to be a basket case. If the whole reincarnation business isn't in fact a big fat lie it's obvious why people could never remember their past lives. It's impossible to live like that. It's like when something you'd seen as a child comes back a few years later and you suddenly realize what it was really about. Sometimes it nothing, but sometimes it can get very ugly. And it's okay if it's one memory or two, or even five, but when it's more than a hundred years of unlife ? And the Nobel Prize in Literature goes to...

Flashbacks and glimpses, huh? But there were also dreams. Yeah, everybody dreams, but, well, those dreams were very realistic. Sometimes it was nothing, like a première of a movie he much later recognized as City Lights. Sometimes and Spike could've swear now more often than ever, it was the NC-17 kind of dreams. But the other problem with dreams is you can die of fear, but after awakening you can never remember exactly what scared you of so much. And, what's even more important, you never know which part was a memory, and which was just pure imagination.

Few years earlier he would go look for conciliation in Joyce's arms. But what would he tell her now? "Mum, I had a dream I took a ten-year-old girl and tied her up. I took a knife and cut her skin. I sucked her blood but I let her live so he could see all the other things I was doing to her. Mum, I wasn't watching, I was doing it with my own hands. And part of me was scared to death, but part of me wanted more"? Did he even had the right to tell things like that the only woman who was always good to him?

What would she do, if she'd know the truth about him?

Giles – just no. Spike felt like this sulky Brit was always a little hostile, always suspecting the worse of him. Speaking about those kinds of things would be like giving bullets to firing squad in front of you. He wasn't Xander, for goodness sake.

Speaking of. Xander and Willow - completely out of question. They were weak, both. Dependable. If he ever doubted that, they gave him enough proves that night.

But there was one person bold enough to help.

And that was something.

Feeling a little calmer, Spike let himself close his eyes and soon fell in a light, restless dream.

* * *

**AN**: As you can see I made Buffy and Spike a little more nerdy than they really were. But kids these days seem to be more nerdy than in the nineties, so, you know.

Okay, I just had too much fun to stop.


	4. 02-09-2010

**A/N: You'd probably noticed I that now every chapter is titled by a date. I borrowed this from one of my favorite authors, Małgorzata Musierowicz. Ever heard of her? She's quite famous in Poland. I know her books were translated into many languages, so if you are a teenage girl who likes high school drama slash comedy, I strongly recommend that you try it.**

**This chapter is slightly different because 1. It's mostly Joyce's point of view; 2. There's less dialogues than usual. Dialogues are my strong point, I don't know about narration. Well, we'll see.**

* * *

It wasn't that the Summers couldn't afford a dishwasher. And Joyce as an ex-hippie knew how important is saving water in California. But she was a great Agatha Christie fan and she thought her favorite author made a fine point when she said washing dishes is so boring it's the perfect opportunity to plan the next book. Joyce wasn't famous novelist. But from time to time she needed to think about her life. Which was like a bestseller's plot, she was sure of it.

She felt like she should make a party for all neighborhood and serve food on real dishes.

Or she could just choose the easy way and save the dishes for a few days. Which she did. She was the only one who tried to keep the house clean. Now the pile looked like it could develop intelligent life by the evening news, so Joyce turned on the radio and started water. _Sound of the Nineties_ was on. She started humming with The Cranberries. _Animal Instinct_ was one of the ultimate hit songs both her children appreciated, which was rather unusual. Most of the time they tried to be as different as it was only possible and often looked like they were trying to actively kill one another. Which, according to books and old fashioned common sense, was perfectly normal for a pair of fifteen year old siblings. So Joyce was sometimes surprised, sometimes even shocked by their actions, but in the end of the day she knew that this teen hatred is just another face of love.

But lately they seemed to behave slightly different. She couldn't remember the last time when one beefed on another. They were going out together giving her many excuses which happened to be true the few times she checked. They even started to study together.

And that was disturbing.

Joyce felt like she failed as a mother before and she really wished she'd do better this time. But it was hard. They say you always make biggest mistakes upbringing your first child. Joyce thought sometimes she couldn't be more wrong raising her daughter when she was doing it for the first time, so now she tried very hard to do better.

Which wasn't easy.

First of all, she felt like she lost one daughter to get another one. And she knew it wasn't fair. Joyce still had all her memories – Buffy's first day at school, her first crush, first boyfriend, her happiness when she drove the car for the first time and her cry, when Joyce was divorcing her father. And those were only few things she remembered.

There were things Joyce would like not to remember though, like when she and her thankfully-ex-husband put Buffy into a mental hospital. She tried to justify herself - it all seemed like madness to her at that time, what else could she do? She preferred to believe Buffy is schizophrenic than believe she's a drug addict, and that was the only other explanation she could accept back then. A vampire slayer? Come on.

So dealing with Buffy was much more complicated than she thought it would be in the first place. But Joyce was trying her best. Now at least she knew the case.

But there was Spike.

Joyce always had a soft spot for him, she had no idea why, but it was a fact. She remembered quite vividly as she asked the strange young man with bleached hair and black fingernails if they'd met before and he confirmed, saying she hit him with an axe once yelling "Stay away from my daughter".

The only thing to say she could think of was a question if he lived in town. What kind of mother acts like that?

She was one of a kind, Joyce thought bitterly.

How to deal with a vampire child? There's no handbook on the subject. She asked Giles, he promised to make a research, but it was soon before he went to London in order to persuade the Watchers Council out of - well, she would rather not know out of what exactly, but as far as she knew their way of thinking Councilors could easily vote for evaporating whole Sunnydale.

So she asked Angel. He said it wouldn't be such a difference because Spike had always been a brat. Then, he advised grounding him as much as she could, preferably in a well-lightened room without a wardrobe because Amara's Gem or not, vampires are afraid of light. Joyce threw Angel out and asked Willow to deinvite him. And he stayed deinvited for a really long time.

Joyce was desperate enough to ask Anya. After all she was a thousand-year-old former vengeance demon, right? Joyce had no problem accepting it. Anya rolled her eyes at first, but she was too much of a chatter box to resist sharing her knowledge. She said vampires rather don't seer children, not because they don't want to or never tried to, but because child's body ("And elder's body too" said Anya "You don't see many vampires your age, do you?") is too weak to serve the demon well. Sooner or later it will burn from the inside. Or a vampire incarnated in adolescent body will kill it.

Joyce was petrified when she heard a child she already endeared to herself was going to burn from the inside. She had to ask, if there was anything she could do to stop it. Anya shrugged. Rejuvenated Spike was weird, she said. She couldn't tell.

So Joyce had to deal with her problems alone. Again, as she bitterly noticed. At least this time no one was actively trying to make things harder, excluding Watchers Council of course.

Still, Joyce could really use a hand. Her kids had had been having nightmares all the time. Their memories faded like old pictures, but the most violent were still present in some corner of their minds. What should a mother say to eight year-old boy who asks: "Mum, am I a murderer?". What should she say if he really was a murderer once?

So she bought a lot of books about traumatized children. It was a necessity, because they both remembered things any child should remember. She even thought about taking them to a professional, but who would've understand the situation? Vampires? What vampires? So you think you are one, and you think you- let me check- a, yes, you slay them. Let me speak with your mother, would you?

Social care would take them away. People are blind, hundreds of people disappears every year in this town and no one sees that. Sunnydale Syndrome is the word, Willow told her once. Hellmouth do this to people. Joyce shouldn't be surprised, she lived with a slayer under one roof and hadn't noticed anything for years.

Joyce had every reason to be stressed out. What if everything happen again? Her children won't be kids forever. They'd understand more and more and finally – who knew? Her daughter was a strong woman, she had very firm moral sense back in her days. Joyce knew it for sure, Rupert told her. He even showed her his notebook what, if Joyce understood that correctly, for some reason was an unspeakable delinquency against watchers' code. Nevertheless Joyce was sure Buffy was smart, Buffy knew better. Her life choices might seem bold, but most of the time there was some reason involved in the process. Sometimes it was so twisted no one else could understand it, but still.

But what about her son? Her impulsive, unpredictable, impetuous son? He was the one she was really afraid about.

Suddenly Joyce felt a strong pang of protectiveness. What if something happen to one of them? Or both?

What if someone hurt her kids?

Joyce stopped the water and went upstairs. She had to do something. She hadn't knew what exactly yet, but there's always a room for a little parent-to-child interrogation. She'd think of resolution once she knew what was going on.

She'd heard through the half-way open door there's a conversation going, so she stopped quietly on the corridor. The days when she truly believed a child should have some privacy were long gone.

Well, it wasn't like anything she anticipated.

"- 'dost thou fall upon thy face?" Joyce heard Buffy's voice. "Thou wilt fall backward when thou hast more wit; Wilt thou not, Jule?' and, by my holidame, The pretty wretch left crying and said 'Ay.'* How can you possibly know" she asked annoyed, "what does that even mean? I mean, seriously, William? There was no other way to write it?"

"It's about sex" said Spike. Patronizingly, Joyce noticed and frowned.

There was a long pause.

"- really" said Buffy finally.

"Yes."

"You're making this up."

"No."

"Shakespeare wrote about sex?"

"Yes."

"I can't believe it."

"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy."**

"Say what?"

"Never mind."

Joyce decided it's a good moment to interrupt. She wanted to know why they are behaving so harmoniously lately. If they started a fight now her crusade would be, well, kind of pointless.

"Kids?" she said entering the room. They jumped a little, startled. Supersensitive senses: zero; teenagers' mother: one. It's such a nice feeling - win from time to time. "I'd like to talk with you about something."

Kids looked each other in the eye searching for understanding.

"Mum" said Buffy cautiously, "Did we do something wrong?"

"I don't know" she answered equally slow raising doubts. "Did you?"

"Because you know, mum, we are studying right now -"

"I can see _that_." Joyce nodded.

"- 'cause we've got a test at the end of the week -" Spike stopped and took a deep breath. "Mum? Is everything alright? You're not sick or something, are you?"

Joyce felt guilty in an instant. A proper upbringing is one thing, but scarring her children just wasn't an option.

"No," she shook her head. God, now she had to be honest. "I'm just worrying about you. You act differently lately and I don't know why."

Kids looked worried before, but now they were visibly shocked.

"I think - " said Spike hesitantly, "I think I don't understand."

Joyce sighed. Maybe her all bad feelings were a sing she's overprotective. She doubted it.

"I'm worried about you," She admitted finally. "I feel like something happened. Something wrong. What is it?"

"Well," started Spike, "we wanted to keep it a secret, but your name day is approaching -"

"My name day," Joyce bridled at this obvious lie, "as if I celebrate it even, is the day after your birthday, thank you for memory. Rally, what's going on?"

"Spike has a problem with a girl!" Buffy burst out.

Joyce blinked "Excuse me?"

"What do you -" Spike started, but Buffy broke in.

"Sorry, Spike, but we had to tell her the truth," she rolled her eyes. "She doesn't want him. I'm giving him my moral support through this difficult time."

Joyce didn't know what to think. Her daughter was trying to hide her grin. Her son looked betrayed and craving for blood, preferably Buffy's.

"You're sure?" she asked carefully.

"Yeah I'm sure" Buffy confirmed gladly. "He's my brother after all, isn't he?"

"Would you please shut your mouth?" drawled Spike.

"She's older," Buffy cheerfully announced it to the world "well, kind of. That's the problem."

"But who's- No, don't tell me." Joyce quickly withdrew her question seeing Spike closed his eyes in silent pain. She took a deep breath. "Sweetheart," she started again softly. Could it be even possible? All of her bad feelings were an echo of a boyish crush? "you've got plenty of time for dates. You both have. You do understand that, don't you?"

"Yes, mum" Spike drawled, his eyes still closed.

"If there's anything you'd like to talk about, you can always ask me, you know that too, right?"

"Of course, mum."

Spike was visibly furious and ashamed. Joyce was sure he'd blushed crimson if it would only be possible for a vampire. A thought it may be a good moment to repeat the birds and bees talk flicked through her mind, but she dumped the idea almost at the same moment. After all what could happen?

A lot. And first thing that was going to happen is the biggest fight in history - if she wouldn't do something straight away.

"Buffy, I believe you wanted to do the right thing, but you should've respect your brother's privacy." Joyce decided telling them off would be a very good tactic. They'd probably unite against her, but at least there wouldn't be need to put in any stitches. "Spike, I know you're angry, but your sister was supporting you long enough to forgive her without a fight," as she knew from her own experience in-the-other-time-same-place supporting lovesick Spike even for half an hour was long enough. "So if you both behave like grown-ups I'll be proud of you more than I usually am, and you'll get extra pocket money this week. If not, you're both grounded. For a really long time, too long to make the fight viable. Do we have an understanding? Good." She finished satisfied when they nodded. "Dinner is in an hour. Keep study, I heard you have a test?"

In the end - it was possible she was just exaggerating, wasn't it?

* * *

As soon as the Summers were sure their mother really went back to the kitchen, Spike switch on Billy Idol's CD and turned the volume up.

"It may not be the best pick" said Buffy sarcastically hearing the first notes of _Rebel Yell_.

"Are you completely insane?" Spike cut in. "Why for the love of God you said I'm - You said these things about me?"

"I'm not insane, I'm brilliant" Buffy squinted her eyes. "Name day? Come on. I had to do something."

"But of all the ideas you could've come up with you had to use this disgusting, tasteless insinuation-"

"Oh squirt, don't you tell me you don't have a thing for Willow" Buffy said condescendingly and burst out laughing. "It's a pity you can't see your face right now" She said choking. "It's hilarious!"

Spike thumped on a floor.

"I wanna die" he wailed painfully.

"Spikey," Buffy said endearingly "you're already dead, remember?"

"Undead" he muttered.

"Okay, undead," Buffy nodded. "But we agreed we'll do everything we can do to keep all that mess away from mum, right?"

"Well, yeah" he confirmed unwillingly.

"And that was the only way" she used her sweet tone now. "I had no other idea."

"You owe me," after few moments of silence Spike the Grim finally proclaimed, "You owe me a big one."

"Sure I do" Buffy assured her brother, "and now, you said when Anya is coming back from Norway?"

"In a week or two" he sighed.

"Good" Buffy smiled vindictively "We can kill two birds with one stone. I could really use some vengeance on Mr. Kindle. Shakespeare test, why do we even need to -"

"Before you'll say a blasphemy," Spike interrupted her "Anya is a _former_ vengeance demon. She won't do anything."

"She can always give me some hints," Buffy smirked. "And trust me, some things are not so easy to forget."

* * *

*_ Romeo and Juliet_, Act I scene III. And for those, who are still pure and innocent – no, Spike didn't make it up ~.^

** _Hamlet_, Act I scene IV.

* * *

**A/N: I was talking with my friend lately about writing and why it makes people happy. We agreed creating is something very satisfying, even if stories we're writing are not as good as we wished them to be.**

**But seeing there are people in the world who like your stories even though a) you don't know them in person; and b) you write in a language which is not your first - it's just an incredible feeling. So I'd like to tell everyone who reads it now –** **you make me very happy and I thank you**.


	5. 25-02-2009

**AN: As one said "Now give me some real angst. And please stop making fun of them for once, okay?"**

**Okay.**

* * *

"You want answers from me?" Anya laughed "You must be really desperate."

She really had no idea how desperate they were. Or, as maybe Spike should correct himself, how desperate he was. Was it twelve hours since his world ended again? 

#

Darkness is so thick and sticky you could swear you've gone blind; you stumble, you trip, you struggle, but you can't defeat such darkness; it's not even worth trying. Except once you surrender there's only darkness and nothing more, not for others, not for you; just this darkness.

So you go, you go ahead, it doesn't matter where, just go, on and on, and there's this sinking feeling something is awfully wrong, you trip and you almost fell down so you reach and lean on the wall; why there's a wall in the infinity of darkness, you ask yourself; but it's something else now, a place of some kind familiarity, like you've been here before, but something is awfully wrong, you see people strewn across the floor 'cause it's dawn and the brick wall is wet and you can only hope it's water; you hear the street and people walking up and down on the other side but not in here, these people here have no faces, these people here in this room or basement and they're dead, for sure they're dead, they should be dead 'cause nobody can survive such pain, but there's something wrong here, there's one still warm and alive and you want to approach but you can't, there's someone over her and it's wrong, someone is over her and you hear groan and you gasp and it jerks its head and you see the monster is staring right at you and it smiles.

#

There were moments in Buffy's life when she was close to admit her life was the most complicated one. It was unbearable for a normal human being, but - - well, she was only almost normal. She could live with that. It had some bright sides. Buffy had this idea of living here and now, without really asking about what would happen if something else had happened. Really, who cares if everything is okay at the moment? And if it's not okay - nine of ten situations can be solved with some really simple solutions.

So when in the middle of the night something hit the wall between her and her brother's room she just took of her headphones (- _why can't you see you belong with meee_ - ), dropped her essay about civil war (oh well) and took out of the cupboard an atomizer filled up with holy water. It won't annihilate him as long as he wears Amara's Gem, but hopefully holly spray will hurt him just enough.

When she opened the door first thing she saw was an alarm clock on its way to break the volume barrier. Buffy ducked.

"Would you please stop trying to kill me?" She snarled slapping the door.

Damn, what a chaos. Thankfully mum wasn't home, other way they both would have troubles, Buffy just knew it. Somehow no matter what was the offense it always was her fault as much as Spike's.

Speaking of.

"Why are you trying to ruin our house at two o'clock in the morning?" she asked annoyed. Spike was a mess. Mad eyes, crazy hair, even more sallow than normally, he just stood and stared at her as he saw a ghost. "Well?"

He rushed on her like some kind of a big hurt cat, what surprised Buffy enough to let him immobilize her in his embrace. Was it a hug? It seemed like a hug. A hug of a person who never heard you actually can break some bones if you're hugging too strong, but still.

"Okay, now you just want to suffocate me, right?" Buffy patted his arm.

"You're alright" she heard in answer.

"Soon I won't be unless you let go of me" she suggested. She was a mistress of subtlety, she just knew about it. "Spike?" No reaction. Okay, **that** was weird. "Hey, huger, let me go!"

Spike reluctantly gave her back her freedom.

"Why do you always have to be such an emo" she snarled. Something was awfully wrong, but she really would like to not to ask.

"I'm redecorating" he said finally.

"Oh, I can see that. Mind if I ask why?" always a little master of irony, are we not?

"I try to find a new calling."

"And the old one was-?"

"Dunno. Murderer? How would you call it?"

Buffy sighted. Why did she even bothered. Really, why? "Great. Just great" she said upset. He won't leave this subject now. "You know, I'd really like to spend few hours talking about the nature of good and evil and why you're a pain in the ass sometimes, but I have an essay about civil war to write on tomorrow morning and I have to Google Churchill first, so if you don't mind -"

"Google who?"

"Churchill." She repeated automatically. But - "What? He was the good guy, right?" she asked anxiously.

"Yeah, he was," Spike seemed slightly offended? "but not in this war, you know."

She didn't.

"Just -" Spike rubbed his face, "just let me see it, okay?" 

#

Spike was easy. Buffy discovered it a long time ago and since then she had been using her knowledge brazenly. The truth was all you need to do is distract him with something he feels passionate about. Then you can do everything. TV is yours, the computer is yours, cookies - okay, maybe not cookies, but two out of three is still a pretty good result, isn't it? And for some reason he feels passionate for arts. All arts. And history is art, isn't it? Like you get B.A. not ., if it's your major in college? Okay, never mind.

"You know, I'm almost sure I met Churchill once" he said some time later, skimming her history handbook.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Sort of." he frowned. "There was also a submarine."

"Submarine."

"Submarine. For sure." he said, but he didn't look very sure to be honest. Buffy shrugged.

"Okay bro, as long as you remember civil war a little better."

"What?" he snapped fiercely. "I'm not so old! I wasn't even seered yet!"

"Yeah, but the question is - were you born before it?"

Buffy was just making fun of him, but Spike looked kinda like he caught him red-handed.

"No! You could actually remember the American Civil War?"

"Not per se - "

"Excuse me?"

Spike rolled his eyes.

"I can't remember most of my unlife, do you really expect me to remember details of a war in another country? I was a British kid, y'know."

"And they say our education is poor" Spike gasped so angrily Buffy decided it's safer for her history mark not to annoy him anytime soon "Okay! okay. Just write, will you?"

Which left her with nothing interesting to do, really.

It was because of all this books. Spike found some really old volumes in Giles' house. Giles had no idea they're missing now, but hey, only a very narrow-minded person could call it stealing. Buffy never was a fan of reading, so she passed on research as soon as she saw the dirtiest, most dusty book in history, titled _Vampr_ or something like that. Spike could totally handle it alone. Buffy could read a good novel from time to time, but handbooks? Not her cup of tea. Or coffee.

And the whole situation was kinda weird, 'cause some of her school friends had nerdy brothers, and that's fine, nerdy brothers are good at maths and always share their homework. But everybody knows no one really likes them, 'cause they read comics, collect dolls and stuff and don't shower too often. So yeah, it was weird, 'cause had anyone heard about a fifteen year-old guy who reads poetry and still most of your schoolmates (mostly - but not exclusively - female schoolmates) think he's kinda hot? Oh, they should see him half hour ago.

Or better not, they say girls like to nurture. Buffy could live without nurturing cheerleaders in her own house, thank you very much.

But Spikey *was* becoming weirder and weirder. Okay, Buffy herself had a minor nervous breakdown some time ago, but hey, it was one time gig, right? It was her birthday, she wanted to be happy, she had no need to listen about blood and death and other stuff. And feeling guilt. And longing for her lost time. So on. Right. So many so disguising speculation, it was sick. She just had to run. If Spike hadn't run after her she'd probably go back after all.

Buffy very carefully hadn't thought that if he hadn't run after her she wouldn't feel safe anymore. As far as she could remember how she felt in her past life, the biggest problem she had to face was there was no one comparably weird when she was growing up.

Now was different. And it was good. 

#

"Giles!" Buffy shouted coming into Magic Box "Are you there?"

He wasn't and she knew about it well. They'd checked it before they came.

"Are you buying anything?" Anya asked without wasting her precious time "If not, go away! Hush! Hush!"

"Anya" said Spike with a deep, reach voice, making his charming face. "How are you today? Beautiful as always, let me notice."

Anya's eyes blurred for few seconds, but she shook her head. "Don't you even try making these tricks on me!" she warned him angrily. "I still have marks of your fangs on my ankles!"

"Which are no less than pure perfection"

Buffy rolled her eyes. Seriously? What had he watched again, _Don Juan de Marco_?

"Err -" oh my God, it's working. Anya was losing her focus. "What do you want?"

"You're the queen of peddling, aren't you?"

"Yes I am" she hesitated. Supposedly one can't be a thousand year-old former demon and go for blue I'm-so-innocent eyes "So what?"

"So maybe you could give us some information" Spike said still smiling lightly.

"Like?"

"Like answers on some questions." He bent his head. "Like what exactly was going on here, let's say - eleven years ago?"

"You want answers from me?" Anya laughed; charm vanished. "You must be really desperate to ask me for answers."

"I told you it won't work" Buffy whispered on a side. She shouldn't be so satisfied, but she was, oh, she was.

"The floor is yours" Spike snarled.

"Oh," Anya apparently had a time of her life "you have other great ideas?"

Stupid ex-demon.

"We can make a deal" Buffy said impatiently. "We can work for you for free. For a month. If you'll tell what you know about our previous live," Buffy spotted her brother "and unlife" she added quickly.

"Na-ah. It's not my business." Anya shrugged.

"Two months" Buffy doubled.

"No way."

"Three months and not one day longer!" Buffy finally lost her temper.

"Listen to me, little girl" Anya impatiently bent over her "I don't care what you want and what you can offer, but let me teach you something: when you want to make a deal, you don't dicker about the price, which by the way would be much higher than three months of your unneed help - "

"So how about us not telling Giles half of your bargains is made on a black market?" propounded Spike maliciously, emerging from the back with a clipper in his hand.

"You-won't-dare" she said slowly.

"Try me, luv" Spike smirked.

And there was silence.

And it was annoying.

"Well?" Buffy just couldn't stand it.

"Ugh," Anya took a deep breath "Okay. You'd been eating people," she said quickly, pointing Spike then Buffy "you slayed vampires who ate people. That's all. Now give me that back!" she stamped.

"So why she didn't slay me?" Spike still hold the clipper high in the air. First time in her life Buffy was really happy he was taller than she was.

"Yeah, why I didn't slay him?" asked Buffy eagerly "Was he a good vampire? Like Angel?"

"Oh stop it" Spike spit.

"God no" Anya laughed patronizingly "Spike was a badass. You were killing a lot, and you killed for fun, you know." sometimes Buffy could agree with mum, Anya really had no idea when one needs to shut up. "I always liked that about you" she sighted "that and your lovely British accent."

"My lovely..."

"British accent, yes," she said dreamy "You've lost it when you grown up for the second time. Pity. Girls love this vibe."

"Seriously?"

"Spike!"

"Oh yeah, right." he said, concentrating again "So if I was-"

"A mass-murderer " she prompted attentively.

"Thank you, you really are a little too helpful even, Anya" Buffy snickered "So why he didn't kill me?"

"Frankly I don't know," she shrugged "I mean, there were many occasions to do that. Well, both of you had a chance, and more than once."

"So you say we were what, like even?" Buffy asked suspiciously.

"That too," Anya agreed, "but there was always a kind of weird attraction between you."

"WHAT?!" double yell made window shields trembling.

"You'd liked to fight. A lot." Anya was suddenly very amused "I always thought you'll end up as lovers, not as foster siblings."

"That's..." Buffy frowned like she ate a lemon "that's just disgusting!"

"You bet it is!" Spike agreed emphatically.

"That's just... blah!"

"Oh now you're just lousy!"

"You're my family, how do you think I should feel about it?!"

"Great" Anya cut in. "Nice you both feel the same. May I get my clipper back?"

"NO!"

They all stayed quiet for some time until Spike asked, still little disgusted.

"Okay, so besides this... attraction. What happened?"

"I really didn't care." Anya shrugged again. "Really. You're not the most interesting thing in the world, you know?" she added, trying to defeat their disbelief. "All I know you. the great one and only true slayer, were slaying every vampire and demon you could find -"

"- every?" Buffy gasped. "Like each and every? Without giving them a second chance or something? That's - just lame!"

"And you were lame that time, girl." Anya shrugged again. Buffy had a faint hope she'll dislocate her shoulder. "Well, in my opinion you still are, but that's not the point." Anya took a deep breath and continued, pointing Spike for a change. "And you were catched by U.S. army, but you escaped. So all Scoobies said 'no, we can't kill Spike, he can help us, and he has chip in his head, he can't hurt us anymore!' bu-hugh, they jibber-jabbered about it for hours." Anya frown her nose mimicking Easter Bunny perfectly.

"So I helped then?" Spike seemed to be little misguided.

"No you didn't!" Anya denied impatiently. "You were the big bad, remember? And they say you are the smart one."

Buffy pretended she didn't notice the insult (much later, to her dismay, she realized that's exactly what she shouldn't do) and asked another question. After all, human insight might be important after all. "So what happened then?"

"Well," Anya thought for a while. Or maybe she was just teasing them, you never know. "Willow put the spell. She says it was an accident, but I don't believe her, little wicked redhead witch..."

"Hey!" Buffy caught Spike's wrist in a reflex action. They really didn't need a brawl in the end.

"Yeah right, now I'm the big mouth, like we all weren't thinking that" Anya yawned. "So she put the spell, and then BANG! you were the most nasty five-year olds in the world."

"And then?" she asked.

"And then you know."

"The army?"

"Team Angel came and cleaned up the mess," Anya unexpectedly fell into a reverie. "Too bad he can't really be with - never mind."

"And the chip?" Spike's voice was harsh.

"Oh they put it out years ago." Anya said lightly. "Don't you remember? It stopped working properly when your brain became smaller" She smiled viciously. " Oh, they were messing with your mind, well weren't they?" Anya was more than amused. "I'm surprised you haven't figured it out by now. You must feel like in _Truman Show_, huh? Nothing is true, nothing is real, well is it?"

Who knows, what would've happen with Anya's face under Buffy's fist, but luckily for her Buffy's instinct to fight evil and mockery was shut down by even more annoying custom ringtone.

"Why are you always messing with my cell?" She snapped at her brother who once again looked weirdly alike Jack Nicholson in _One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest_.

"Mum?" Buffy made it clear by a gesture she'll behead first one who speaks. "No, nothing's wrong, we just dropped by to say Giles hello - no, he's not here, we were waiting a bit - really? Taxes issues?" Buffy send started Anya a very meaningful look. Oh yeah, babe, gotcha. "Okay, if you say he's not coming, we're on our way- Yeah. Bye."

The thing is no kid - supernatural or not - can escape from maternal instinct.

"We'll be back" she said as a parting shot and left the store before Anya could think out any clever retort. 

#

"Got it?" Buffy asked when they passed the second block.

Spike nodded, visibly annoyed, and showed her Giles notebook before he hide it again in one of his duster's pockets.

"Does she suspect anything?"

"Not in a million years." Spike was more than sure. "We should take arts next year, our school theatre would be much better." 

#

Buffy went upstairs some time ago, probably trying to figure out some extremely glamour career one can set without reading too many books.

Spike stayed downstairs. Mum - Joyce - was in the kitchen now, fighting with the dishes, so he could stare in the empty mirror as long as he wanted to without anyone asking why is he doing that.

He had no idea, why.

He didn't switch on the light and now shadows in the hall were getting deeper and deeper.

And something was terribly, awfully wrong. 

* * *

**AN: It's not the end of the story, but I honestly have to think it through one more time. My imagination is erratic and the destination point have changed a bit. Which is rather surprising for me. Seems like I really can't write a pure comedy. Oh well.**


End file.
